


Relax [The Sexy Boy Extended Remix]

by Caeseria



Series: Kaboom! [The Work Your Body Till it Hurts Playlist] [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Keith (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Cock Warming, Crying During Sex, Edgeplay, Lance's ass needs its own warning, M/M, Massage, Omega Lance (Voltron), Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay, Praise Kink, Purring, Relaxation, Scenting, Stripper Lance (Voltron), Strippers & Strip Clubs, Trigger Warning: Frankie goes to Hollywood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25889770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caeseria/pseuds/Caeseria
Summary: Lance sprains his ankle while practicing a move, and he's forced to rest up for an extended period of time.  Keith decides to show him that relaxation – of both the body, and the mind – can lead to some incredible benefits and rewards.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Kaboom! [The Work Your Body Till it Hurts Playlist] [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1495001
Comments: 34
Kudos: 434





	Relax [The Sexy Boy Extended Remix]

**Author's Note:**

> This story is brought to you by Lance's amazing ass, and the songs [Sexy Boy by Air](https://youtu.be/A_ulZiob5I0) and Relax, by Frankie goes to Hollywood. Remember: Frankie says Relax! ;) (I do urge you to take a listen to Sexy Boy - it's _such_ the perfect Lance song, oh my god.)
> 
> Also, I'm dedicating this to my ever patient, ever suffering beta, Svana_Vrika, who puts up with a lot of my shit, including this story, which is not her kink, but she still steps up for me. I love you, babe. <3 
> 
> Remember, comments keep me fed! ;)

Keith is tinkering with this week's problem hover bike when his cell rings. "Shit," he mutters, trying to reach for the phone, while at the same time to not lose his tenuous grip on the stupid intake valve near the rear fan that he's trying to fix. He loses the battle with both; he fumbles the phone and it bounces onto the floor, while at the same time the spanner he's using slips from his grip and drops to the cement floor. Fortunately the phone doesn't break, although a thin web of cracks explodes over the protective film on the screen. "Fuck," he says more forcefully, and wow, that makes two swearwords in as many seconds and while not a new record, he's still getting sternly eyeballed by Kolivan, his partner and joint-owner of the bike shop.

The phone has stopped ringing, but before Keith can get up from his crouch next to the bike and reach for it, it's ringing again. ""lo," Keith says by way of greeting. 

"Keith?"

Lance's voice sounds a little shaken, reedy and weak. That pulls Keith up short, and his irritation fades away as quickly as it had arrived. "Lance? Are you okay, sweetheart? What happened?" He's already standing up, looking around for his keys. It occurs to Keith he _might_ have just growled.

Lance lets out a soft laugh that sounds tinny through the phone. "Kitten, take it easy. Dial down the alpha freak out a little and take a deep breath for me, yes?"

"Okay." Keith is heading for his office, pushing the door open and spotting his keys on the end of the desk. He snags them and starts walking toward the front of the shop, pressing the starter on his bike and listening to the engine roar as it starts remotely. "You haven't answered my question."

"So, I might have sprained my ankle," Lance says carefully. "And I'm gonna need a lift home."

Keith opens his mouth to speak and then closes it, because he's not sure he's isn't gonna lose his shit with worry and he needs to remain calm. "I'll be there soon," he says finally, switching off the bike and pocketing his keys. Guess he's gonna need a cab this time.

* * *

By the time the cab drops him off at Altea, half an hour has passed, and Keith is frantic (and not in the good way, either). He pushes the main door open and breezes through the entrance, making a beeline for the stage and the small group of people clustered around the front of it.

Lance is sitting on a chair, foot propped up on a stool. His ankle is bandaged and as Keith approaches, everyone turns to look at him.

"Ah, Keith!" Coran says warmly, gesturing him closely. "I’m afraid we've had a slight mishap. Lance here was practicing and took a bit of a tumble off the stage."

"I lost control of a move," Lance bites out, clenching his hands in his lap.

Keith pauses and tries to remain calm. He reaches down to stroke through Lance's hair, soothing him. "You fell _off_ the stage?" he asks. "Lance, I – "

"No, it was a lot less dramatic than that," Lance huffs. He's clearly a little annoyed at the fuss and a bit pouty. "I did sort of slide to the side and my ankle gave out in the middle of a move. Then I slid off the edge of the stage. I didn't take a headfirst dive or anything."

Lance's ankle looks a little swollen beneath the bandages, but someone – probably Coran – has wrapped it tightly enough to be supportive. He's also got a couple of scrapes on one knee and his elbow, but all in all, it could have been a lot, lot worse. 

Keith nods, squeezes Lance's arm. "Okay, okay. So, shall we get you home then and get you comfortable? How long does he have to be off the foot for?"

"At least a week. Definitely no pole dancing moves until that's healed, eh, Lance?" Coran says pointedly.

Lance doesn't say anything, which could mean two things: one, he's resigned to it already, or two, he's super upset and doesn't want to show it in public. He does, however, allow himself to be helped to the waiting cab, grumbling all the while under his breath as he's helped into the back seat. 

Keith's glad Lance isn't hurt badly – it could have been so much worse. A sprained ankle is serious, but he could have broken it instead. After a few moments Keith tries to fight down a grin; Lance is quiet, but he's not going to be that way in a couple of days. Lance is a whirlwind of activity; he's always moving, always doing things and he doesn't do inactivity well. 

Maybe Keith needs to pamper him horribly, and also show him that sometimes stillness of the mind – and the body – brings the greatest rewards.

* * *

While Lance is in the shower, Keith sets about making a nest in the living room. He remembers that Lance keeps a soft and plush futon mattress in one of the built-in cupboards for those moments when he's feeling needy or when he just wants to sprawl out and relax without doing so in bed. It takes him a moment to find the right cupboard, and when he's done, the futon is spread over the floor, layered with a couple of soft blankets and pillows. 

He can hear Lance shuffling in the hallway, and he climbs to his feet to meet Lance. "Hey, hey, no walking, remember? At least not for the rest of today," Keith chides. "Why are you dressed?" he asks stupidly, blinking at Lance, who's in a pair of baby pink velour shorts that are _very_ short, with slits in the sides. He can just make out the swell of his ass spilling out of the bottom of them.

Lance leans against the wall and crosses his arms, trying to look seductive while holding his injured ankle up and not put weight on it. Somehow, he manages it. "I didn't want to sit around on the couch with my junk hanging out," he says with a grin. "Of course, if you want me to, Kitten, I can be persuaded…"

Keith grins. "I have a better idea," he says.

"Better than me naked?" Lance pretends to look horrified. "People pay lots of money to see me mostly naked, I'll have you know."

"No shit?" Keith sweeps in and picks Lance up, enjoying the way he shrieks in surprise, arms wrapping around Keith's neck. 

"Oh my god, put me down!"

Keith carries Lance down the hallway and into the living room. He backs in, careful not to bump Lance's foot, and then sets him on the floor gently, holding him until he has his balance. Lance shifts until he can see the floor and then he sucks in a breath, body tensing a little in Keith's arms. For a moment, Keith thinks he might have miscalculated.

"Keith," Lance says softly, turning so that he can lean into Keith's side, "I can't – you did this for me? You made me a nest?"

"Um, should I have not?" he asks carefully. "I just thought you'd like to relax here for a bit. I can take you to your room if –"

"No!" Lance flaps a hand and shakes his head. "Nope, no, this is fine. I want to sit here in my nest, please. You can help me down."

 _Okay_ , Keith thinks. _Lance is super adorable when he's flustered_. Keith needs to do it more often. He steadies Lance and supports him until he can settle down into the futon. He leaves Lance to arrange the pillows and blankets how he wants, because it is a nest after all, even if Keith has built it, and it's now Lance's space. While Lance works on that, Keith searches for the massage oil in the bedroom. When he comes out, Lance is spread out, head resting on a pillow while he uses the remote to find some soft background music. It's so far from the usual pulse-pounding electropop he dances to that Keith has to take a moment to readjust mentally. It gives him an idea, and he thinks Lance might enjoy it a lot.

Keith crouches at the end of the nest, holding a cushion. "Gonna put this under your ankle, okay? You want some ice for it?"

"Please." Lance lifts up a toned, brown leg and lets Keith arrange his foot on the cushion, lets him run his fingers carefully over his bandaged ankle. 

"Is it tight enough? How's the pain?"

Lance smirks. "Stop fussing, Kitten. My pain is tolerable, the bandage is tight enough, and you are not getting in my nest until you've showered. You smell like the bike shop."

Keith laughs. "I thought you said that was sexy?" He winks and then holds up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I'll shower." He drops the massage oil on the side table. 

"What's that for?" Lance asks, shifting a little until his foot is secure on the cushion, ankle raised.

"It's for later, when I don't smell like grease and hover bike," he says.

* * *

_Later_ comes after Keith has showered, and Lance has taken a nap. Apparently pole dancing your morning away and then falling off stage will tucker a person out. Honestly, Keith is glad he hadn’t been there to see it happen. He thinks he might have nightmares over it regardless; how Lance could have broken bones, could have hit his head, could have snapped his neck. Jesus Christ.

Lance is still sprawled out on his back asleep, foot propped up on the cushion, head on a pillow. He has one hand resting on his bare stomach, the other curled, palm up, next to his head. The pink shorts contrast with his gorgeous brown skin, and Keith can just make out the glint of silver from his navel piercing next to his hand. Despite all that glorious skin on display and available to touch, Keith is drawn to the tousle of his hair, messy after his shower, curling around his ears, and the long line of his neck. If he leaned into the nest, he'd be able to run his fingers down Lance's bare neck, stroke across his scent glands. 

It's then that Keith realizes that Lance isn't wearing his collar – he must have taken off the one he wears outside when he’d showered, and had never put back on the soft velvet one he usually wears around Keith. Lance wears the leather one at work for protection – not willing to risk an overenthusiastic alpha getting wound up and biting him, mistake or not – but he doesn't need to wear one around the house. He usually only does around Keith because he knows that Keith likes the look of it, the feel of it against Lance's skin. Plus, it's also the final barrier between them, an acknowledgement that the collar is the one thing that separates them still. They've fucked every which way possible, they've shared Lance's heat, Lance has even dicked Keith down, but the collar is still a line drawn in the sand, an acknowledgement that haven't bonded – yet.

Seeing Lance lying there without the collar, the soft skin of his neck bare – it sends heat spiralling through Keith, because without it, without that strip of fabric, Lance looks more naked than he ever has before. 

Lance stirs in the nest, maybe sensing Keith standing there watching him, and his eyes flicker open, slits of vibrant blue focusing on him as he wakes.

"You watchin' me?" he mumbles, raising a hand and brushing his hair back. "Pervert."

Keith laughs. "Maybe just a little. You're gorgeous, sweetheart; I can't help but look."

Lance smirks, gaze heavy, lidded with promise as he lays there. His blue eyes are piercing, focused like a predator on his prey, and he arches his back in a sensual stretch. He's like a panther lying in the grass; lazy and content, but ready to spring at a moment's notice.

Keith's having none of that; he has plans for Lance and his endless reserves of energy. He's going to make this beautiful boy relax and rest his ankle even if he has to resort to extreme measures. And there's been something he's wanted to try for a while. He holds up the bottle of massage oil and wiggles in the air. "Do you trust me?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

"I trusted you a lot more before you asked me that," Lance sasses, smirking. He trails his hands over his stomach, smoothing up to his pecs and over his nipples, pausing to tease himself, before stroking back down again.

Keith bites his lip. Lance is trying to provoke him into fucking him. Keith's not gonna lie; it usually works, but he wants to see Lance relax and take some time for himself. Keith wants – "Let me pamper you, please?" he asks.

Lance pauses, eyes widening. "You want to – wait, really?"

"Is that so shocking?" Keith asks, dropping to his knees. He pauses. "Can I come into your nest?"

Lance blushes. Honest to god _blushes_. Sure, during Lance's heat Keith had asked permission to enter Lance's nest, but this isn't heat-related. This isn't even technically Lance's nest. "You – " Lance says softly. He seems a little confused. "Why are you asking me? You made this nest for me."

"It's still _your_ nest, no matter where it is or if I built it for you," Keith explains. "I'll always respect that."

Lance props himself up on one elbow, struggling a little since his ankle is still resting on the cushion and it has him slightly off balance. He pats the duvet beneath him. "Please?" he says, tipping his head to the side, showing off that expanse of bare neck. Keith feels the heat in his stomach like a smoldering fire; stoking slowly, making his dick twitch at the thought of latching on there, gently pressing his teeth into Lance's neck, marking him up. Biting him. He visibly has to bring himself down, to relax, and isn't that the joke? He wants Lance to relax, pliant under him, and here he is acting like a fucking caveman again.

He crawls into the nest, careful of Lance's injured ankle, and rests the bottle of massage oil off to the side but within reach. "Will you let me rub your back? You look tense."

Lance bites his lip, and shit, that's devastating; white teeth against plump flesh. Lance just nods. "You want me to turn over?"

"Yeah," Keith breathes. 

Lance starts to roll over and then stops. "I might – I might need a bit of help," he admits, and oh, isn't that adorable? Lance: sex incarnate, destroyer of common sense, god of the dance beat, needs help turning over?

Keith can do that.

He shifts a little, takes a look at where Lance's injured ankle is, and then grasps him by the hips, flipping him over onto his stomach. Lance makes a noise somewhere between a turned on squeak and a moan. Still with his hands on Lance's hips, he smooths them up to Lance's tiny waist and holds him there. He leans down, breath hot across Lance's ear and neck and teases, "You like it when I manhandle you, don't you?"

"Fuck, Kitten," Lance exhales, eyes fluttering closed for a moment, fingers tightening in the bed sheet. "If I thought there was any chance in hell I could get you to fuck me right now, I'd be begging for it."

And there's the proof; Keith can suddenly smell a faint scent on the air, sweet and clear, that pulls him closer. He runs one hand down Lance's back, over the swell of his ass, and ghosts his fingers gently down the seam of Lance's shorts, right where it disappears between his cheeks. Lance's hips roll involuntarily and the scent becomes a little stronger. "You getting slick, babe?" he says, rubbing his thumb thoughtfully over that seam, watching Lance squirm a little, trying to get Keith's fingers where he needs them. Keith obliges for a moment, pressing down, watching Lance arch a little.

And then Keith remembers what he's _supposed_ to be doing, and he pulls away, earning a glare from Lance. "Dirty tease," Lance says with a pout.

Keith barks out a laugh. "Coming from the god of dirty teases, I'll take that a compliment," he says. He pulls the cushion from the other side and fiddles around until he's got Lance arranged; on his stomach and foot resting on the cushion. Lance shifts until he's comfortable in his nest of blankets and pillows and lets out a long, (frustrated) sigh as he settles with his head resting on folded arms. His blue eyes watch Keith from under long lashes, waiting for him to get to it.

He settles to the side, so Lance can see him. "Can I take these off?" He tugs at Lance's shorts, and Lance nods. 

"Do whatever you want with me, Kitten."

 _Tempting_ , Keith thinks. Lance is hoping for a good, hard fucking, but Keith has a better idea. He wants Lance a pliant, relaxed mess by the end of this. He slides his fingers under the waistband of Lance's shorts, tugging them down. Lance's ass is a dream; round and bouncy, hard muscle covered with a mouth-watering layer of fat, tapering into a slender waist and a lean body. The shorts are at least a size too small and Keith has to pretty much pry them down over Lance's bottom, then down his legs. He's careful around Lance's ankle, not wanting to aggravate the injury and cause pain, and just as careful to settle over Lance once he's gotten rid of the shorts. He runs his hand over the swell of Lance's butt cheek, squeezing a little, getting a feel for the weight of it. He can't resist giving it a light tap and Lance squirms. 

"Is this a porno or a massage?" Lance asks, and the breathless tone of his voice gives away which one he prefers it to be.

Lance's scent is stronger now he's out of clothes; his omega taking over, producing slick now that he's aroused, especially since Keith is here, in his nest. His omega wants to get fucked, and Keith has to keep his head, stay responsible for the next little while. He uncaps the oil and spreads it over his fingers, rubbing gently to warm it up. "Anywhere it hurts?" he asks. "Did you strain anything else when you fell?"

Lance huffs. "I mistimed a move, I didn't _fall_ ," he bites out.

"No, you took a 'tumble' I believe as Coran called it."

Lance turns his face into his arms. "Don't bring Coran into my nest while I'm naked, please," he grumbles almost inaudibly.

Keith grins. "Sure." 

He places both palms gently on Lance's lower back and smooths them up, toward Lance's shoulder blades. Lance's beautiful brown skin glistens under the oil, soft and inviting, and Keith shifts so that he can spread the liquid across his shoulders, sweep down the length of his spine and back to the swell of his ass in one long, languid movement. Lance lets out a groan of pleasure, guttural, deep in the back of his throat, and Keith knows he has him, then. It's not a sexual moan; instead it's one of pure satisfaction, of being pampered and accepting the attention, of allowing himself to truly relax under Keith. His body stops resisting after a while, going pliant and lax, and Lance's eyes flutter closed and stay closed, breaths evening out. Keith keeps up the sweeping movements of his hands, alternating between soft caresses and then harder strokes that work into the muscles and loosen them. Lance may wave off Keith's concern, but his muscles are tight, especially in his lower back, and Keith want to lavish Lance with more of this type of attention, as much as he can.

He works his way down Lance's legs, kneading at the thick muscles of his quads, gentling his touch on the soft, delicate skin of his inner thighs, and then sweeping down to his calves. He's careful around Lance's ankle, preferring to leave it alone to rest, and then he works his way back up, until Lance is barely responding to his touch, simply a relaxed puddle of sexy boy in his nest.

Keith pours a little more oil into his palm, smoothing back up to Lance's shoulders, and then he slides his hands back down his spine, one hand moving to cup his waist, the other slipping down, down, over Lance's tailbone, between the generous swell of his ass cheeks. Lance makes a humming noise that's slightly curious, but other than helpfully spreading his legs a little, he doesn't really react. Keith has him exactly where he wants him; meditative, half asleep and content. If he plays this right, he'll keep him that way, at the same time winding him up into an earth-shattering orgasm.

He gently rubs his finger over the tight furl of Lance's hole as he strokes across his lower back, dividing up duties, keeping Lance relaxed. Lance is already wet with his own slick; it glistens over his hole, dripping slowly down over his perineum to his balls. His scent is divine, and Keith can't help himself, leaning down to swipe his tongue over Lance's hole, flattening it and pressing down. He can feel the give already in Lance's body, eager to accept whatever Keith is ready to give, and Keith can't help but let out a growl from the back of his throat, laced with a moan. His alpha wants to sink into Lance's willing body, to fuck him until Lance is claimed, but not this time. Keith wants to hold off because the wait will be more than worth the effort.

He kneels back up, licking his lips and swallowing the little of Lance's slick he has on his tongue. When he checks, Lance hasn't moved, but he's watching Keith, eyes half-lidded in pleasure, knowing smirk on his face. Keith rubs his finger over Lance's hole, pressing it in, enjoying the way Lance's back bows in pleasure, the way his lips part on a shaky sigh as he's penetrated.

And _shit_ , Keith loves this. Loves watching Lance's reactions. They are so honest, so in the moment, and he's never hidden a single response from Keith, ever. What Lance feels is what you see; written in the sultry movements of his body, the emotion on his face. So different from the calculated seduction he uses at the club to bring all the alphas to heal.

"Relax," Keith coos. "Can you try to stay relaxed for me, sweetheart?" He rubs his other hand over the swell of Lance's bottom, soothing, persuading Lance to sink back into the twilight of relaxation. He slowly pulls his finger back, running it around Lance's softening rim, and then sinks back in with a long, slow glide until he's as deep as he can go. Lance starts to react, remembers Keith's request, and goes pliant with a sigh. "Good boy," Keith whispers, leaning forward to kiss below Lance's ear, across his shoulder. "So good for me." He sets up a slow, hypnotic rhythm, feels Lance relax around his finger; actually feels it the moment that Lance's hot, tight body loosens for him. He adds a second finger and then a third with no resistance; Lance's body just stretches to accommodate him without tensing up. As an omega, his body is made for this, but it's exciting as all hell for Keith to see the amount of trust Lance is handing him, his body remaining pliant like this. 

Fuck, Keith wants inside him so bad.

So, he pulls out, resisting temptation. Lance shifts, complaining quietly, only to stop when Keith starts massaging his back again, settling him back down. "Can you turn on your side for me?" Keith asks. "Or do you wanna stay like this?"

Lance opens his eyes and stares at Keith. He knows Keith is up to something and he's weighing his reaction up, thinking. Finally he nods. Keith helps him shift, making sure that his ankle is still resting on the cushion, and then Keith strips down, slots behind Lance, and supports him with his own body, his chest to Lance's back. He slides his arm beneath Lance, bringing it up to stroke fingers along Lance's swollen cock. Lance shivers, leaning into Keith's body, turning just enough so he can look up at Keith.

Lance is a picture of decadent relaxation; skin glistening in oil, hair tousled, eyes sleepy. One hand rests against the blankets, the other over his waist, and Keith slips a leg between Lance's, balancing him further. "Okay?" he asks.

"Hmmm," Lance replies, nodding. "Have your wicked way with me."

"Not yet," Keith promises. He trails his oil-slick hand across Lance's waist, over his upper leg, as far as he can reach and then back, following the lines of Lance's lean body; hip, belly, navel (and the piercing), waist, up his abs to his chest, his pecs, circling a nipple and then playing his fingers across Lance's collarbone. His every touch is light and teasing; much different from the almost clinical massage he'd started out with. "Relax for me," he coaches, feeling Lance's muscles release at his words. Lance's body leans into his, heavy and soft. He places a soft kiss to Lance's neck, scenting him, breathing in that glorious musk Lance exudes. It makes Keith a little light-headed, if he's honest. But it's a pleasant buzz, and he strokes his hands down again, over Lance's belly back to his cock. He runs his fingers up the length, smiling when Lance shifts the leg resting over Keith's to give him more room. He traces over Lance's balls, across his thighs, back up his straining dick. 

Every time Lance tenses, or tightens a breath in pleasure, Keith whispers, "Shhh, relax," coaxing Lance back down, watching him go pliant. "Don't tense on me, sweetheart," he says, tracing his fingers up to Lance's nipples, circling one slowly, then sliding back down. Lance's cock is beading with sticky pre-come now, tacky against his fingertips. He pulls his hands up and sucks on his own fingers, humming at the taste.

" _Fuck_ ," Lance moans, watching him. He presses back into the cradle of Keith's hips, anxious for friction, searching for the hard length of Keith's cock. "Fuck me, yes?" he says breathlessly, eyes large and persuasive.

"Not yet," Keith says. "Just relax and enjoy this." 

Lance pouts, but tries to remain lax for his alpha. His body is trembling now with every stroke of Keith's fingertips, and he tenses up, then forces his body to calm and release. "Good boy," Keith praises, and Lance tenses again, rolling his hips. That earns Keith's hand on his waist; "Relax…"

Keith keeps this up for a few minutes, and there are moments where he thinks Lance might refuse to play, might turn bratty and beg, but he continues to surprise Keith, clearly cognizant of when his body seizes with pleasure, forcing himself to calm. The trembles build, and Keith can feel the wet of Lance's slick coating his cock where he's pressed against Lance's ass.

"Keith," Lance lets out a shuddering breath. The hand on his blankets tightens as he fights his body over the need to tense. To tense is to prepare to orgasm, and his body is desperate for it. "Keith, I'm gonna come," Lance warns.

"Shh," Keith whispers. "I need you to do something for me, sweetheart. I need you to stay relaxed, even when you want to come. Don't tense. Ride it out, okay? You're gonna hit the peak and then it'll fade, trust me."

Lance turns his head, nods and closes his eyes. Keith strokes up Lance's cock, light as a feather, not increasing his pace, but he can feel Lance shaking, trying not to let his body come. He knows from experience that it's much harder not to come, to not give in to your body's instincts, and he watches Lance crest his peak, hanging on the edge. He stops touching Lance, watching his lax body hang there on the precipice, and then Lance lets out a shuddering breath.

Lance is beautiful like this; wrecked, on the edge, but not being pushed there cruelly as if he was being forcibly edged by a partner. This is more of… a _persuasion_ not to come, to have Lance take control himself, to edge himself.

Lance takes another shaking breath and then his body slackens in Keith's hold. "Oh my god," Lance slurs. "I can't – "

Keith grins. "Perfect," he says. He rocks forward with his hips, sliding his cock between Lance's cheeks. "Should I reward you?"

"Hmm, gonna fuck me now?"

Keith angles his hips away, nudging the tip of his cock at Lance's hole. "If I do this, you have to stay relaxed for me and not tense up, okay?"

Lance nods, rolling forward a little, making sure not to jostle his ankle. Keith parts his cheeks and then pushes forward, feeling the head of his dick slide in in one smooth movement. Lance does his best to stay pliant; usually, because he's a little brat, he'll tense, babbling about how thick Keith's cock is, how much he wants it, how hard Keith is gonna have to fuck him to make him stop talking. Now – now Keith just slides home into Lance's body, until he's almost balls deep. He wants to thrust, to pull back and rock his hips, but this exquisite torture isn't just for Lance. Instead, he slides home and stays deep.

Of course Lance wriggles. He's come down from the edge of his potential orgasm and he wants to get fucked. He says as much.

Keith holds him by the hip firmly, and then nuzzles into his neck. "Stay good for me, baby," he says. "It's gonna feel so, so, intense when we're done, okay?"

Lance is pouting, but he doesn't wriggle, or try to push himself further onto Keith's cock. Instead, he lets himself be just a sleeve for Keith's cock, keeping it warm as Keith starts teasing him again, working him up with touches and caresses. 

Keith can tell Lance is close again, and much quicker than before. This wave is going to build on the last one, and so on. Keith's done this to himself only once before; spent an afternoon in his rut a few years ago building himself to a peak and then letting himself teeter, right on the edge, before backing off and starting over. When he’d finally come, he's pretty sure he’d seen stars it had been so overwhelming.

Lance is trembling again, one hand curled around Keith's wrist as he teases him. His body is flushed and covered in a fine sheen of sweat and oil, glistening in the candlelight. He tenses occasionally, but it's not voluntarily; Lance’s body knows it wants to come, and Lance has to fight to relax again, to ignore the building pleasure that's clearly heating him up from the inside. He can feel the muscles in Lance's hole fluttering, tightening around him as he approaches the edge. "Again, Lance," Keith whispers, so Lance knows not to come. "Show me how good you can be for me again."

A thin whine leaves Lance's throat at his words, but he obeys, and when he's right on the edge, Keith removes his hand, takes away his touch, and let's Lance hang there on the edge, trembling, before his body relaxes further. Keith does it once more, watching Lance sink deeper into a sort of liminal, meditative subspace every time he overcomes the need to orgasm. His body is totally relaxed now, eyes shut, lips parted slightly. Keith checks to make sure that his ankle is still supported properly on the cushion, and then leans into Lance's neck, scenting him. Lance tilts his head to the side, baring his neck, totally submissive to his alpha. Keith nuzzles in further, stroking his hand over Lance's belly, away from his erogenous zones for a moment, just enjoying the feel of his smooth skin under his. The way Lance's body encases his hard, straining cock, keeping him warm.

"You've done so well, sweetheart," Keith says. "Time for a reward?"

When he starts stroking Lance again, Lance whimpers. It's not in pain; it's an acknowledgement of the pleasure. The sound comes from high in his throat, a rumble almost like a purr. Keith's never heard a sound like it before, but it settles something in him, calms him at the same time it makes him want to claim. Lance's scent wafts over him, strong and clear, and Keith fights not to thrust into Lance - not yet.

This time he encircles Lance's cock; keeps the pressure light but changes his touch. "Stay relaxed for me," he says, "Last time, I promise." He grazes his teeth across Lance's neck, just above the scent glands, close enough to release Lance's heady scent in glorious waves. Lance is trembling now, so on edge. His body isn't even trying to tense now; he's simply a vessel for Keith's touches. His breath comes faster, and he bites his lip. 

"Please," he whispers. He looks at Keith, eyes bright with tears that spill over, and Keith squeezes around his cock, rubs his thumb over the tip, pressing gently. He kisses away Lance's tears, runs his fingers over his peaked, sensitive nipples, and lets Lance peak in a slow, languorous wave that swells until it can no longer be contained.

When Lance comes, he lets out a sharp breath and his body seizes in Keith's arms, his back arching and his ass pressing into Keith's hips. Keith strokes him through it, hyper sensitive to Keith's touch, come stripping high enough to catch Lance on his nipples and collarbones. 

It's one of the most beautiful things Keith has ever seen.

It also shoves Keith hard and fast to the edge – zero to sixty – Lance's body tightening violently around Keith's cock and milking him relentlessly through Lance's orgasm. Keith barely lasts through it before he's coming himself, tucking Lance close to his body and riding through it with gritted teeth. Keith's orgasm is intense; he's been holding off just as long as Lance has.

When it's over, they both collapse back into each other, heaving breaths and sweat-damp skin, tears and ejaculate.

Lance shifts finally, careful of his ankle, and lets out a sigh against Keith's chest.

Keith grins and leans in for a kiss. "I think I made a mess out of you," he says. "Sorry?"

Lance brings his hand up and pats Keith on the jaw; once, twice for good measure. It might even be a half-hearted attempt at a smack, except Lance is smiling. "You are evil," he says.

"Yes, but it was an incredible orgasm, was it not?" Keith points out.

"Hmm," Lance grumbles. "But now you can draw me a nice bath and, while I'm soaking in it, you can feed me."

"I just gave you a massage." Keith kisses his way over Lance's cheek, to his jaw, and nudges underneath to breath in the strong scent that's left after Lance's orgasm. "Don't you want to sleep first?"

It takes Keith a moment to realize that yes, Lance is actually asleep, sleeping the deep sleep of someone who's just had an intense orgasm, who is so relaxed and feels so safe that nothing short of an apocalyptic event is going to wake them.

"Guess my work here is done," Keith says to himself with a smirk, pulling a blanket over both of them and nestling close.

**Author's Note:**

> Please come on over to visit me on twitter @ Caeseria_nsfw ;)


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